Not So Cute, Anymore
by Sophie929
Summary: Dickon and Mary are not society's most ideal couple, so society likes to give them a hard time, especially their families.
1. Chapter 1

1912

"Dickon! Mary!" Martha called them as she circled the garden. She didn't know where the entrance was because it was Colin, Dickon, and Mary's secret, so she respected it on one condition, that they answer her when she called them, but Dickon a Mary were a bit too distracted to answer her.

Dickon was fourteen… Mary and Colin were only twelve.

Dickon knew he wasn't suppose to be doing this but how could he say no? What was he suppose to do? Push her away?

He could hear Martha calling them in the background but he was sooo unwilling to answer her back. If he did, he'd be forced to pull away.

All his life he was told, people like him just don't have relationships with people like Mary and Colin. Now look at him. Colin is his best friend sending him gifts from other countries and Mary had given him rights to her garden and also at the moment…

...her lips.

It was something very spontaneous. He heard the garden door open and honestly expected Mary to show him a new bag of seeds she wanted planted. It happened like this:

Dickon was working himself to the bone, pulling out some weeds he had missed weeks before. Now they were tall and strong, and it would be a lie if he had said he did not struggle trying to rip them out. He wiped his forehead, which was boiling with sweat. It was unusually hot that day and Dickon remembered Colin telling him something that had to do with something called perspiration. Apparently we sweat to cool ourselves down. Immediately Dickon commented on the similarity concept between our bodies pouring out sweat to the way pigs roll in mud. Colin thought it was amusing.

When Dickon heard the door open, he immediately smiled. He didn't need to turn around to know it was Mary visiting him and their garden. Dickon put down the tools and met her halfway, as she walked toward him.

"Working hard aren't we?" Mary asked.

"S'no too hard," Dickon laughed heartily, as his grin spread wider, each corner of his mouth touched both ears. "How's tha?"

"Good," she answered, "I made a new friend. Daughter of an old colleague of my uncle."

"Grand!"

"Yes it is," Mary smiled, "Because she brought up something I had never considered."

Dickon raised his eyebrow at her, no idea of what's to come next. "An wha' would tha' be?"

Mary wasted no time. She wrapped her arms around his thick neck, pushing herself against his body and lips pushed into his. Shocked, Dickon didn't move. He didn't even blink. He watched Mary, helplessly as she continued to kiss his lips over and over again. Subconsciously his arms began to move around Mary's waist and his eyes began to close.

What was he suppose to do? What should he have done?

He could have pushed her away…

Something told him it was the right thing to do, but as he began kissing her back, hands roaming her lower back, something also told him, he didn't care about what was right or proper. Dickon was always confused about his feelings for Mary. What she a friend? Or something more? Was she allowed to be something more to him? She was a lady after all. Dickon's hands gently moved to her hips, appreciating the slight curves which were growing in, and as he appreciated them, he felt something twitch in his pants, telling him he was enjoying her a little bit too much.

He pulled away. The both of them breathing hard as if they had been put underwater for hours and had just had the chance to resurface. Mary kissed his lips a few more times before finally opening her eyes and smiling at the boy who had taught her how to smile.

"Dickon!" Martha continued to call them, "Mary!"

There were a lot of things Mary hasn't thanked Dickon for: For one thing her garden. Mary wouldn't of even know what to do if she some how decided to keep the garden a secret of her own. Two, Dickon was the first person ever to teach Mary love. She wouldn't have known how to smile, if Dickon hadn't given her reason to. She wouldn't even known how to laugh, if Dickon hadn't told her a funny joke.

To Mary, Dickon was more than worthy of her first kiss. In fact she believed he was quite deserving of it, but upon seeing him now, Mary was only afraid, he didn't enjoy it.

"..." Dickon's voice was cracking under pressure. He struggled to find the words. "... Miss… th-tha kissed me."

Mary tried to smile. For if Dickon didn't like her kiss, she would prefer to pretend that it would not hurt her feelings, because more important that her first kiss, Mary needed to keep her friendship with Dickon. Though she knows it shouldn't be that way, Dickon was far more important than any first time at lip lock. Mary answered him, "Y-Yes! Yes I did."

Dickon was silent… he continued to stare at her, Martha still calling the both of them in the background.

…

Three years later… Mary's birthday.

"Dickon!" Martha called them, "Mary!

Martha pulled out her extra pair of keys and unlocked the garden door. She had finally asked Master Craven if she would have a pair because the children weren't answering when she called them. He gave them to her in full agreement of her judgements.

 _Miss Mary is bein' verra rude!_ Martha scolded in disappointment, _tha' has all tis gest and she won' greet them?"_

Once she heard the click of the door, she put the keys into the pocket of her dress and continued forward. She pushed the heavy door and was surprised by it. Surprised that young Mary was able to push the door open when she was a young girl.

 _Tha'd have betta' been a gentleman, Dickon Sowerby!_ Martha scolded again, frustrated with the lack of their answering her. She found it very disrespectful and it was all she asked for. _Thes' doors are too heavy for a young lady as the mistress!_

"Dickon!" Martha called again as the door was finally pushed open, "Mary!"

Suddenly Dickon was in full view. Martha stared at him suspiciously for the expression her little brother was wearing, was one to be guilty of. She had caught him just in time, frantically tucking in his shirt and kicking away what looked like a piece of pink shimmering fabric.

Martha almost couldn't believe it. Here they were having a birthday party for the young Mistress, waiting for the guest of honor to arrive, the reason all those good people made room in their busy schedules to see her, and she was in the garden about to shag a gardener!? Martha shook her head at the eighteen year old, more disappointed with him, because it was he who should have known better.

Martha marched toward her brother angered and embarrassed.

"Martha plea-!" Dickon cringed as he saw Martha approach him, but he was cut short when she faced him, roughly taking him by the ear.

Dickon protested, trying to pull away but Martha had a good grip on him. "Tha' are suppose ta be a gentleman," Martha spit in her brother's ear as she pushed him toward the door. Giving him one kick through the garden door she yelled, "so start ACTIN' LI' 'UN!" She turned toward the emptiness of the garden knowing fully well Mary was somewhere in there hiding, "An I suggest t' Mistress made 'erself presentable befor' t' Master comes lookin for tha. I would 'ate ta see t' look o' shock on 'is face when he see's 'is niece int' state thy's in!"

Somewhere Mary hid behind a wall, her corset untied, her dress barely hanging from her shoulders and her face was beating red. The embarrassment was too much but oddly enough, she still found herself smiling when she heard Martha pushing Dickon away from the garden yelling, "An as for theur Dickon Sowerby-!"


	2. Chapter 2

Just a Bit of Fun (Part One)

"Master Craven," a maid called behind the closed doors of his study. Archibald looked up from the work he had finished hours previous, looking hopeful for something interesting to happen. It was relatively boring since his son left for his schooling, and Mary had spent so much time in her garden, he hardly ever saw her. Sometimes he would dare to venture the old place and pay his niece a visit, but she was always so far off in her own world there, a place he did not understand, a place he knew he wasn't meant to understand, so he would conclude it best to leave her be. "Dickon Sowerby wishes to speak with thee. Should I tell 'im tha's workin?"

"No, that's quite alright Lizzy," Archibald eagerly remarked, extremely excited. "If you would just give me a moment."

It would never be, in anyone's best interests, safe when a man well of the age of forty becomes uninterested of the day to day routine he has designed for himself. Especially if the same man had a niece of queer tastes in young gentlemen. Ones, being, far below her class and could destroy her reputation in society forever, with no hope of it ever recovering. Propriety demands her, condemns her really, to good manners and upstanding fortunes, though his niece, _undoubtedly_ a lady of beauty, grace, and intelligence, was not so easy to bend and this gave Archibald a perfectly good opportunity to be… well… her uncle.

"Alright Lizzy," he said finally, picking up a few pages and pretending to look busy, "Send him in."

Not a moment after the doors opened and Lizzy gestured Dickon toward Archibald, who was trying so hard to make himself look extremely uninterested, Lizzy closed the doors behind him and Dickon nervously approached the desk, twisting his cap in a strong grip.

"Good morning Mr. Sowerby," Archibald said, getting up to greet the young man, "And how are you on this fine day?"

Dickon opened his mouth to say something but struggled to find his words. He looked pale, paler than aristocrats of the renaissance era and the whole time Archibald was crying inside at his own cruel amusement. He couldn't help the smile pushing his mouth upwards, couldn't hide it.

"Are you well?"

Dickon nodded his head, the only response Archibald received since the moment the young lad had entered. "M-Mr… Master! Master Craven," Dickon stuttered like a blubbering fool, "Ah kno' Mary has been speakin with thee about us an' I thought… well… I …"

"Ah yes!" Archibald exclaimed, "Mary! What a wonderful young lady she has become, has she not?"

"No… Ah mean yes! She's becom' a won-"

"And her beauty has grown with her garden, has it not?"

Dickon paused. Archibald watched Dickon immediately calm. His grip around his cap had loosened and the green lines in Dickon's neck had all disappeared. Archibald was sure he knew what Dickon was thinking about at that moment or _who_ , would be the right word. "Yes," Dickon answered gently, "It has."

Archibald was losing him and his fun, so he quickly reacted, "Was there something you wanted to ask me, Mr. Sowerby?"

"Yes! Ah did," Dickon declared, all the boy's anxieties obviously returning. "I kno' Mary has been speakin with thee about us an I thought, I would speak to thee me-self. After all, only be proper…"

Dickon went on and on for next five minutes about how important it was that it was _Dickon_ who spoke to Archibald about… whatever it was that was needed to be said. It was obvious, of course, what he was going to ask Archibald, and Archibald was trying so hard to make it look like he was kept in the dark, but truthfully Archibald had been waiting for this day for years. Still he couldn't help but admit that the boy's constant ramblings was beginning to get to his nerves, so he cleared his throat, to interrupt him. "Mr. Sowerby I understand your passions of speaking to me about this mysterious subject yourself, now if you would please get to the point."

Dickon only stared at him for a moment, the tension was building up in his face. Until finally he abruptly fled the office, leaving Archibald speechless.

He clapped his hands together in triumph and laughed, "I'll see him tomorrow then!"


End file.
